


Drunken Shenanigans

by sumomomochi



Series: Redux3 [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, FTM Dave, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumomomochi/pseuds/sumomomochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dave drunkenly makes decisions that are not bad so much as they're awkward once sober.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Shenanigans

“Dave, Dave, Dave, heeeeey Dave,” John croons at you, breath hot and liquor sweet against your neck, “Can I suck your dick?”

He presses his hips against your thigh, his boner obvious as he kneeds at your dick, like you’ll actually get hard. You wheeze in laughter, your face hot with booze, and he bites at your throat.

“C’mon, please?”

You suppose it’s good to know that John’s a horny drunk, when you’re safe at home where the only real threat is Karkat chucking controllers because even super smashed, Sollux still kicks all your asses at Mario Kart. You suppose it’s also good that the two of you managed to get all the way to your room before he decided to be super gay.

Heh, super smashed. Sollux also kicks ass at Super Smash when super smashed.

You find that way too fucking funny, even as your boyfriend practically humps your leg.

“Sure,” you tell him, “Why the fuck not.”

You’ll probably feel weird about this in the morning, if you even remember this in the morning, but he kisses you hard, tongue against your teeth in a way you can’t even be assed to find gross. He tastes like chocolate vodka and cherry kool aid and you’re still not sure how he managed to stomach that concoction.

(Sollux should not be allowed to mix drinks. Sollux should especially not be allowed to mix drinks when he’s hissing with giggles, his two tongues sticking out between his teeth. If there is one thing you’ll remember in the morning, it’s this.)

John scoots down your body, half tripping over your legs with too much of his weight on your sternum. You don’t mind. His hand is still on your crotch and you’re not sure if the way he’s grinding your packer into your cunt is intentional or not, but it’s pretty swell.

Wow. Swell. Okay. You suppose that’s a pretty good word.

He pushes your shirt up, both hands sliding over your waist and stomach, biting at your hipbones. It tickles, you think, but not in the way tickling usually tickles. Your _bones_ tickle.

Maybe. 

You think it’s your bones. It could be your organs. Whatever it is, it’s pleasant and John’s inching your pants down your hips, lips and tongue following your waistband’s decent. Your dick’s going the same way as your jeans and you snicker, grabbing hold of it.

“Dude, just unbutton my pants,” you tell him.

“Bu’d that’d be the smart thing,” he laughs back, but he does actually unbutton your pants. It makes the whole pants-taking-off thing a lot easier.

Sort of. Mostly he just pulls your fly open, pulling your boxers down far enough to get your dick out. And then he puts his dick in his mouth.

Wait, fuck, no. Scratch that, reverse it. He puts _your_ dick in his mouth. All of it basically. Not that impressive; your dick’s not made for fucking. It’s big enough to match your ego, yeah, but it’s squishy. Nothing like the turgid schlong pressed against your shin.

It’s still hot as fuck, especially with how he hollows his cheeks, sucking at you. You can’t feel it, but damn. You think you like watching. You definitely dig all the sound he’s making, breathing hard as he slurps at you wetly.

Wait no, that sounds gross.

It’s pretty accurate though.

He pops off your dick to mouth at your hips again, peeling your jeans back to run his tongue along the crease of your thigh, following the line of your harness. You gasp, jerking your hips against his mouth, the sudden switch to actually being able to _feel_ making your toes curl. He tugs your pants out from under your ass, dragging them all the way to your knees, and you really like the way his face looks stuffed between your thighs.

His face is a good face. It’s an extra better face with your dick resting along his cheek as he licks the line between your packer and your skin.

You squirm as he swallows your dick down again, blood too hot in your face and in your limbs and your gut.

And your cunt, but that has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with how great John’s face looks stuffed with your dick.

You fumble for your phone, plucking it off it’s charger. You get to the.. photo taking ability on autopilot and snap probably the shittiest picture of your life. John laughs around your dick and his breath tickles your thighs. You send the picture to your sister ‘cause she will totally be able to appreciate how great your boyfriend looks stuffed full of dick.

You attempt to clarify anyway, just in case.

TG : john loks super fuckin gret onmy cik   
TG : fuck dick   
TT : I take it you’re enjoying your birthday?   
TG : fuck yeah   
TG : chcolate vodak dosn ot taste goof diwht kool aid fyi   
TG : fodcka   
TG : fuck vodka jesus dick   
TT : Thank you; I will keep that in mind for my own celebrations tonight.   
TG : oh hoppy bday sis   
TG : why thef uck are you even up   
TT : Because you texted me a picture of your boyfriend sucking your dick.   
TG : oh srry   
TT : It’s quite alright.   
TT : However, I’d suggest you quit texting me and enjoy your birthday head.   
TG : god pan   
TG : ahaha fuck good plan

You quit texting your sister about your birthday head, which has mostly devolved into John snickering against your dick because you were totally texting your sister about your birthday head.

“Sorry,” you tell him, trying not to laugh yourself, “Had to brag.”

“What an ego boost.”

You think he’s joking but he’s also really deadpan about it. You laugh anyway, pushing his face back against your crotch. He laughs too, except he basically laughs into your cootch and his breath almost feels cool compared to how hot you feel.

You really want his mouth on your skin. Like, now, preferably.

He bites your thigh, probably in retaliation, but it feels really fucking good so you just moan. Your hand is still on his head and he follows your touch, licking a wet stripe up your leg. He bites at your hipbone again, sucking. You gasp, rocking your hips up. He’s back to rubbing at your dick, pushing it against your flesh, and you can hear how it sticks to you.

“Fuck, Dave,” John groans, “you’re really wet.”

You nod dumbly. You’re fucking _sopping_ and it’s fucking gross but John’s nosing at the base of your dick, breath hot against the wet smear left along the front of your junk. 

“Could I?” he asks, practically mouthing the words against your cunt. You try to spread your legs a little wider, hips canting up into his face, and seriously, fuck pants. He runs his tongue along the spit, hand holding your dick out of the way. You hiss a curse.

Head is so much better when you can actually feel it.

John tugs your jeans down a little further, and with his help you yank one leg out of them entirely, pressing his lips harder against yours, hah. He tongues at your clit, hard and rough, sucks at it, uses _teeth_ as he arguably blows you and it’s fucking great, holy shit. Thank fuck for liquid courage and Sollux’s shitty bartending skills.

You laugh a little at the wet noises of his mouth on your -- holy fuck “muffin” is the worst euphemism, god damnit Lady Gaga, but it’s the only one you can think of and it’s hilarious.

The way John sucks on the edge of your cunt, where the meaty part meets the inside of your thigh stops your laughter though and you hiss a breath out between your teeth when he dives back into the, heh, heat of it, grinding your crotch against his face. He’s breathing so fucking hard, mouth sealed against you and shit.

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

You’ve gone all high pitched and squeaky, gasping and moaning as you ride out your orgasm, John’s tongue against you. Almost immediately after, John’s on top of you, lips sticky and pressed hard to your own, desperately hissing, “In you or against you?”

“Fuck, in,” you gasp. He practically falls into you, fucking you hard and fast, and his hand’s _still_ on your dick, which would be funny if it wasn’t so god damned hot.

He comes in short order, gasping against your neck, drooping boneless on top of you.

“You look good with your face on my dick,” you whisper to him after a moment and he laughs.

“That’s good, I guess.”

===>

You get a package three days later, and Karkat spews coffee out his nose when opening it reveals a sparkly pink strap on, courtesy of your sister.


End file.
